


confrontations

by daenaera



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Spoilers for 8x04, a bit rushed at the end but i will rewrite this, complete and utter overhaul of 'The Bells', crucify me for wanting a decently happy ending, just needed some sweetness in my life, very loosely based upon the episode, we are not touching 8x05 at all, while considering the very real and serious mental state of dany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daenaera/pseuds/daenaera
Summary: a grieving daenerys receives advice from a stranger and jon confronts her at dragonstone[ a complete overhaul of 8x05 ]





	confrontations

She consumes not a singular morsel of the dish presented to her, the paranoia that twists within her whispers warnings only she hears. She only allows the provision of water by Grey Worm, for he is a genuine friend, there would never be betrayal between one another. She views the worry that builds within his dark eyes though she expresses not an emotion, for he need not place his worry of her above the Unsullied, his brothers, who he commands. Even if the food brought any fine taste, it would bring little comfort to her, for she cannot pass the grief of the loss of her closest friend and confidante who she had sworn to protect.

She has failed in her promise of the protection of her people and though they have achieved victories, she often wonders for the reason they follow her. She knows that she is far from a failure and yet the urging little voice within her head insists that makes a terrible leader and queen. She supposes she deserves the torture of her mind, for she failed Misanndei.

Her mind is much maligned as her physical body, far from the perfect picture for the battle to come in King’s Landing.

She dismisses the serving girl and for the briefest moment spies a spark of spite within her eyes, though she does not allow anger to gain control of her even within this state. She will never allow an innocent to be killed even if she serves a darker purpose of a former ally turned enemy. If there is to be a punishment, it will lay upon her advisor, the very man that plots against her. Righteous anger builds within her and immediately she knows his execution must come swiftly before she allows herself or anyone else to fall within the danger of the Spider.

Varys may perceive her to be the greatest danger to the realm, but after her potential demise she cannot ensure the safety of the other heir, Jon himself. His execution comes officially from his betrayal, but Daenerys intends his execution to be a protection of both herself and Jon. She has finally come to realize the statement of ‘A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.’ 

Let her be perceived as a mad queen, only will she know the reasoning behind the execution of the infamous master of whisperers that has reigned for far too long.

A guard quietly informs her of the arrival a guest and even in her state she must meet with the people she is destined to rule over. Perhaps she will be seen as human, as a being of the earth, rather than the grandiose glory that rides atop a dragon that strikes both fear and admiration into the hearts of all that see her. She cares little for the mass tresses of silver that lay about in different places, her braids loosened, and her pallid skin is stained from tears that seem endless. The voice screams the beginnings of a mad queen and another voice screams she is merely being as human as any other.

“Allow their entrance.” Her voice is a command, now the voice of a queen though it is draining on her energy to keep the facade of Queen Daenerys Targaryen.

A woman enters, donning fashion unfamiliar to her, though the soft lavender and pale pink reminds her of a dress her own mother might have worn. Her dark brown hair lays in a thick braid across her shoulder, and there is an expression of both respect for a commanding royal and maternal compassion. Daenerys sheds not an emotion but she is shaken to her core at even the briefest soft expression.

“My Queen.” She performs a bow, only raising from the position when Daenerys gives the command. “I thank you for your generous acceptance of my presence.”

“Who are you?” Daenerys questions imply, her head pulled back and her shoulders high, commanding a queenly presence even as much as it taxes her. She will not bow in front of even her lover,much less a stranger she knows not to trust.

“Meredyth, my queen. I am simply a healer, but you saved me and my people at Winterfell. We all are very grateful for your generosity, especially I am. At least I mourn the fallen of your people, it could not have been easy for them to fight in a foreign land.”

No response is crafted though there are tears at the corners of her eyes, for Meredyth is the first to provide genuine gratitude to both Daenerys and her people.

“Certainly not. But they are a strong people and they have faith in themselves and among one another.” She appreciates the sentiments of the Meredith woman, however he cannot allow her guard to fall. The woman may be yet another ploy to kill her. “What is it that you need from me?”

“May I offer you a piece of advice?” Daenerys does not pretend to be unaware of the quick glance at her stomach though she does not make a complaint. 

“I have my advisors to listen to.” Though she is hardly in the mood to listen to them in these moments. “Why should I trust you with advice? Why should I trust you at all?”

She means not to come as menacing, but the woman must know her place. Or so screams the paranoia that threatens to hold her tight.

“Your advisors are men, are they not? You need a woman for this advice.” Meredyth steps forward and though she is far from threatening, Daenerys is glued to her own place to manage her composure. “They will not know of such matters.”

“What matters do you speak of?”

“Your child, my queen.” Her voice is one of gentle bluntness, a way to bring Daenerys to the truth. “There is no need to fool yourself, you should know very well already that you are with child.”

Paranoia screams for he to order this woman from her room immediately, though the sensible part of her personality deduces that the healer very much can tell of her state of health. She purses her lips, with no words willingly to come to play, she is a speechless queen for the moment. She drops to the chair that is nearest to her, her consumption with her own thoughts does not allow the prevention of the woman to help settle her down into the chair.

“You are not eating either. A very bad thing for both you and the child to come.” There is temptation to slap the hand away from her forehead but she allows it nevertheless, she cannot hurt an innocent that came of her free will to offer advice.

“Poison. I am threatened with poison.”

“A queen in your position is always threatened with death. It comes as no surprise with Lordy Varys as your advisor, he serves no one but himself.” With words like those, Daenerys suspects hat Meredyth is far more than a simple northern healer but she questions not the source. “If he ends your reign before it begins, we will all die by the hand of the Mad Queen.”

“And how do you know that I am not the Mad Queen herself?” Daenerys demands and in a sudden movement she is on her feet, in the face of the woman that came to provide advice. Her paranoia shouts with glee and only confirmation of the title will soothe it. But Meredyth confirms no such demand, a sad smile pressing to her lips.

“If you were a mad queen, you would not have assisted us in winning the battle for humanity, for us northern folk. You would have simply pursued your true mission in reclaiming the Iron Throne for your house at any cost.” A brief pause and though she does not touch the queen, there is a brief gaze upon the slowly growing bump. “Despite your lack of eating, you would not have such care for your child. You would have had me executed on the spot for daring to offer you advice.”

“I am no perfect human being, Meredyth. I dance dangerously close to the flames of madness and even now there is voice that screams in me that I will be jut like my father.” Tears fall, and she cannot help but sink into the chair once more, destroyed by emotion and the lack of nutrition of her fear and paranoia. 

“Madness is a rarity, even among the Targaryens. You are not mad, my queen. You are grieving and you are lost, not knowing who to trust.” Meredyth is far too accurate in her observation and analysis and it only breaks Daenerys further and even the paranoia is settles into a silent voice.

“How do you recommend that I depart this state?” Through tears and all, she is ever yet a queen, and she must be dependable for her people. “I cannot be in this state forever.”

“Trust the man you love, my queen. Jon Snow is an honorable man and I cannot name a better man to love.” There is confidence to be found within her advice and she presses another smile against her lips. “He freed my family from the tyranny and the torture of the Boltons. He is compassionate beyond his exterior and he will support you even more so now that you carry his child.” 

“You give good advice. Why should I not listen to you instead? You are a woman.” Her tone is half teasing and half serious, very much resperenting the duality of her emotions and nature.

“I know not the way of war nor politics, my queen.I leave it to you to rule as a fair and just queen.”

“Perhaps I can keep you as an advisor for… Other needs.” Daenerys provides the briefest touch of a smile and lends her hand to the other’s in a gesture of thankful affection. “I will need someone that I can trust to help with my child.”

“I would be so honored to do so, my queen. I hope it is more than enough to repay you for your role to save us.”

“There is no need for thanks, I only did what a ruler needs to do for their people. Protect and save them.”

————  
Daenerys wears the pale nightgown that she ever so favors, that subtly emphasizes her ever growing stomach. She wears her hair in a simple wrap around braid, allowing the silver curl to fall down upon her back, a semblance of peace in comparison from her earlier mood. The crimson rings of grief and anguish remain around her eyes though she wears a tranquil expression, as her slender hands curve around her stomach. Even the paranoia is eased for this temporary time, though nervousness plagues her for the reaction of Jon to the revelation of the creation of her child.

She possesses only the words of Meredyth to rely upon, and even so… She believes them.

When Jon enters the room she says not a word of greeting, remaining towards the fire and waiting his own greeting for her. She feels the concern of his gaze burning on her back but she must allow him to approach her, and not the other way around.

“They say you are not eating.” Jon begins in that same accented, gruff voice that she has come to see as comfort. “I came to be with you. You cannot shoulder this grief alone, you cannot starve yourself and suffer.”

“And if I choose to?” Daenerys shudders at the icy chill of her own word, a sudden mechanism of defense to prevent any feeling of the coming hurt. “Poison, Jon. I cannot eat because of poison.”

She gasps ever so lightly as he grasps her arm to urn her towards him, surprise displayed across her features. It is far from an act of cruelty, but for an act of confirmation of Jon to read within her the possibility of a threat to the life of the queen. She ignores the brief hurt that dashes across his dark eyes at the degradation of her face because of grief and lack of nutrition (though she is thankful that he has yet to discover the swell of her stomach).

“Who the hell is trying to poison you, Dany?” She nearly breaks down at the usage of the affectionate name, though manages her composure for the moment. 

“Varys. Varys is trying to poison me.” She looks away though his hands remain upon her upper forearms, and even the presence of their warmth brings tinges of comfort. “He believes I will make an unfit, mad queen. Perhaps he is right.”

Once again she is plagued with the duality of faith in herself and the paranoia that screams at her to fully embrace the mad queen persona as so she will not be hurt.

“Damn him for ever thinking that.” Jon curses under his breath, furthering the proof that he ever remains unwavering in his faith of her. “Damn him for trying to poison you.” His anger is cold and controlled but there is a shaking of hi body that only indicates the height of his fury.

“He is only trying to protect the realm.” 

“By killing a woman innocent of his crimes?” A thick eyebrow raises, mouth twisted in a frown of disgust, and he shakes his head almost with a certain violence. “Not over my dead body.”

“You really are an honorable man, Jon Snow.” It is a laugh of half sadness and half disbelief in the guise of joy, feeling the emotions swelling within her. “You would protect me at the cost of your own life.” Ever so gently she presses fingers to his face and eagerly he leans into the touch of affection. Of course, she would equally give her life in favor of his as well if that was ever the case. 

“You are my queen and I shall be loyal to my queen.” He takes her fingers within his and presses them to his lips. “But you are much more than just my queen now.”

 

Broken down by the overwhelming emotions that have developed over days, Daenerys does not take notice of his hands hovering around her waist to bring her closer. It is as if the moment is frozen in the passing of time, the hands of Jon passing over the curve of her stomach ever so gently but revealing to him the child that she carries within her. Daenerys knows not how to take the frozen reaction of her lover and suddenly flings herself away from himself, already well prepared for the rejection to come. Sobs begin to build up within her throat and she is far from the Dragon Queen that she is made to be for the people, she is the ever vulnerable Dany. Her sobs dwindle within a few moments upon the realization of the foolish scene, to reveal even to Jon such emotion… He knows the extent of her weakness.

“It is not ideal, but it has happened.” Her voice is as chill as the winds of the north even as each word brings more pain to her heart, as if there is a dagger in her heart. “Reject the child as you will. I am a mother, I would never reject a child.”

“You are also foolish if you ever thought I would reject my own child.” His voice is warm with emotion, of comfort as he draws her back into his arms, and hands ever so gently placed upon her stomach. “I grew up a bastard, I cannot allow my child to grow up the same way.”

“I must admit that I was afraid for a brief moment.” She is soothed, with the feeling of protection within the arms of her lover, with the knowledge that her child is loved as she never had been loved. She will not and cannot relive those past moments of fear, the near collapse of her altogether.  
“I was angry with Varys. To think that I could have lost my queen and my child without even knowing.” He presses a kiss to her ear ever so gently and once more briefly shakes with emotion. “I’ll send that bastard to the Seven Hells before he can ever lay a hand on you again.”

“I suppose that I will always be safe with you with me.” She teases lightly, an effervescent and nearly optimistic smile playing on her lips. “Meredyth was correct.”

“Meredyth?” He questions with a touch of confusion. 

“A generous woman who gifted me with advice.” She laughs with the subtle expression of confusion hanging on his features. “You do realize that I am a queen and a woman, correct? I cannot always rely upon the advice of you foolish men all the time.”


End file.
